


The Beginning and Five Other Short Stories

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: The Roommates AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SHIELD Academy AU in which Grant Ward and Skye are put together as roommates due to a system error.  A collection of drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beginning and Five Other Short Stories

**The Beginning**

"This has to be a mistake," Ward says.  For one, sophomores and upperclassmen at SHIELD academy are supposed to have single rooms. And, if he was to get a roommate, it would be another guy.  Not a tiny girl with like, three computers and six cellphones already spread out on her desk.

"Not really," the girl says, "I was put into the system late.  Didn’t you get an email about a roommate?" He crosses his arms.  He might’ve gotten one.  He’s shitty with emails.

"You’re a girl," he says.  She shrugs, and pulls a fourth laptop out of her bag.

"A mistake in the system they just corrected.  They had me down as Sky Coulson, without the "e" at the end.  I’ve been on their files for like, three days."

"So this isn’t a single?" Ward asks, because this is his fate.  "Wait, did you say Coulson?"  Skye looks at him from her desk.

"No and yes," she says.

"I didn’t know he had a daughter," Ward says.  Skye doesn’t looked phased.

"It’s complicated," she replies.  "Like I said, I’m new to the system.  What’s your name, btw?"

"Grant Ward," he replies.  He’s rooming with a girl.  He will have to spend the entire year changing in the bathroom.  He will have to share a bathroom with a girl.  What did he do to deserve this?

"Are you going to set your stuff down, Grant, or-"

"It’s Ward," he corrects.  She rolls her eyes.  He’s off to a great start with her.

"Okay, whatever.  Come in.  It’s your room too." She goes back to her computer.  Ward stays in the doorway.

 

 

\--

**Pertinent**

Ward has several pertinent questions for his roommate, and can ask her exactly zero of them.  He can’t just turn to her when she’s doing her homework and ask, “so are you Coulson’s illicit lovechild, or something?”  He doesn’t know Skye very well, but she seems like she’d punch him if he asked that sort of question.

 

Or worse, she’d tell Coulson himself.  That’s not a comment Ward needed on his record.

 

He’d like to ask why she insists on getting ready to Britney Spears in the morning.  There was a time when Grant Ward didn’t know all the words to “Toxic.”  He misses those days, before Skye came in and cluttered his bathroom and his room and his waking and non waking thoughts.

 

“Skye?” he says one night, as she puts lotion on her elbows, “are you cold?”  He likes to sleep with the window open, and Skye likes to sleep in a tank top and a pair of underwear, which he thinks is going to start being a problem when winter rolls around.  She puts her lotion back on her desk and stretches.  Her tank tops are thin enough as it is.  Ward doesn’t need this.

“I’ve got plenty of blankets,” Skye says.  “Why?  Are you cold?”  Ward turns over in bed and faces the wall, as he’s grown used to doing since his new roommate arrived.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Okay,” Skye says, almost amused.  “Whatever.  Night, weirdo.”

“Night,” he says, then chides himself for it.  He’s not supposed to be encouraging her.  And he really needs to stop responding to “weirdo,” and “robot,” and “G.I. douchebag.”

 

 

He should ask her to stop sexiling him, even if she’s gotten better about it.  The first time it happened, he’d just slept in the hallway.  He had no where else to go, and he needed his books in the morning.

“Seriously?” Skye had said, and her conquest was already long down the hallway.  “You could’ve told me you had no where to sleep.”  He’d stretched out the cricks in his neck.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night,” he’d said.  She’d scoffed at that, offering out her hand to him.  He’d thought that she should be more self conscious about sporting her pajamas (or lack thereof) in the hallway.

“I’ll kick them out when I’m done from now on,” Skye had said, like it was so easy to use people for sex.  He’d wanted to know how she did it.  He still does, actually.

 

He asks her, once, where she’s from.  It’s a balmy september night, and they’re finally getting used to each other.  She’s hand washing her bras in their bathroom sink, and for the first time Ward doesn’t actually mind.  She tenses when he asks.

“I moved a lot,” Skye says.  Ward stares at her back from his desk.  He’s never noticed how skinny she is, not until now, when he thinks he could count her vertebrae.

“Army brat?” he asks.  She goes back to scrubbing.

“Nope,” she says.

“How do you know Coulson?” he asks.

“How do you?” she replies.

 

Ward thinks it might be best to never ask.  She’s not going to tell him a thing, anyway.

 

 

\--

**Obstacle**

Ward recognizes the broad shouldered boy with sandy blond hair, standing at the mouth of the obstacle course.  Ward got a pretty good look at him around two am, actually, when Skye had kicked him out of their bedroom.  Ward had been waiting in the hallway, like he usually did.  He doesn’t have anywhere else to stay, and Skye promises that she’ll always have the room cleared out by 2.  She’d offered midnight, but Ward hadn’t wanted her to think that he’s uncool or a wet blanket or anything, so he’d told her 2 was fine.  Besides, he only needs five hours of sleep, max.  And it only happens two times a week.  So it’s not like she’s ruining his life, or anything.

 

Except that she is.

 

 Blond haired boy is just standing out in the field.  He looks smug.  He’s probably bragging about Skye.  He looks like that type.  Who does he think he is, anyway?  Skye booty-called him.  Not the other way around.  Ward should go set the record straight.  He jogs over to blond boy and his little group of cadets.

“Hey, you’re Skye’s roommate, right?” blond boy asks, offering his hand.  “It’s Ward, right?”

“Yeah,” Ward says, taking blond boy’s hand and giving it a crushing squeeze.  Blond boy winces for just a tick, then pulls his hand away.  “I didn’t catch your name, though.”

“Alex,” he says.  Alex is a douchebag’s name, really.

“You room with a girl?” one of the other cadets asks.

“It’s a long story,” Ward says.

“Skye’s pretty cool,” Alex says.  “I think she’d be an awesome roommate.”  Ward scoffs.  Like Alex would know.  Alex has no idea that Skye sings in the shower at the top of her lungs, or that she often takes Ward’s notebooks to class because their notebooks are all black and she can’t tell them apart, or that Skye eats late at night even though it’s bad for her in the long run and- hey, are people starting the obstacle course?

 

Here’s what happens: Ward kicks Alex in the face.  The longer version: Ward reaches his usual lead with little struggle, despite the fact that someone decided to start the obstacle course without him.  It’s probably Alex’s fault, though Ward’s not sure how.  And when they get to the rope ladders, Alex is pretty much up Ward’s ass, and so it’s only fair for Ward to give him a tiny nudge to back off.  Like when you flicker your brake lights to let the car behind you know they’re tailgating.

 

Except that it wasn’t a nudge.  It was a full fledged face kick.  That’s the accidental part.

 

Alex yells, “what the hell?!” from the dirt.

Ward half heartedly mumbles a “sorry!” and scrambles over the ladder.  His instructor is waiting for him at the other side of the course, naturally, because they’re being trained to kill but apparently kicking Alex in his stupid face is off limits.  So he trudges to the deans’s office with a scowl on, and when he opens the door Skye is sitting in one of the chairs, texting away.

 

“Hey roomie,” Skye says, without looking up, “what’re you in for?” 

 

 

\--

**Mathematics**

Skye curses at her desk.  This is nothing new.  Skye has a filthy mouth, and Ward hears approximately thirty ‘fucks’ a day.  He’s actually started cursing more, and it’s entirely Skye’s fault.  But he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize general curses and more agonized ones.  These are the latter.

“You good?” he asks her.  He used to try and ignore her, keep his nose buried in his book and his body firmly on his bed.  That’s the thing about Skye, though.  She refuses to let him ignore her.

 

“How are your math skills?” Skye asks.  Ward gets up without thinking about it.  He places a hand on Skye’s desk.  Two weeks ago, the room was pretty much divided in half.  That doesn’t happen anymore.  He’s leaning right over her shoulder and she doesn’t even mind. 

 

She’s got terrible handwriting but Ward can make out the equations on the page.

“This isn’t very complicated mathematics,” Ward says.  Skye protectively snatches her notebook from of the desk.

“Thanks for that, Ward,” Skye says, “that solves everything.”  She tries to get up from her desk, but Ward holds the chair in place.

“Hey,” he says, “that’s not what I meant.  Let me see the problem again.”  Skye gives him a look, which makes him realize how close he’s brought himself to her shoulder.  With a huff, Skye lays her notebook out on the desk.  Ward taps the paper with his pen.

“This is pre-calc,” Ward says, “that’s why I’m confused.  You should’ve learned this in high school.”

“Oh,” Skye says.  “Well, I didn’t.”  He notes the way she’s staring holes into her notebook, the anxious tapping of her pen.

“How old are you?” Ward asks.  He’s never really put an age to Skye.  She seems to be sixteen and twenty six at the same time.  To him, at least.

“Eighteen,” Skye says, quietly, “and I don’t know how that helps.”  Ward puts his hand over hers, to stop the incessant tapping.  It’s distracting.  It also means that his mouth is now mere inches from her neck.  But this is about math.

“I was just wondering if you’d graduated high school,” Ward says.  Skye shakes his hand off hers.

“I did,” she says.  Her voice wavers.

“Skye-” he whispers.

“Fuck,” she says, wiggling out of his embrace, the one he didn’t even notice he’d been holding her in.  She stands from the chair, and she looks more scared and sad than he’s even seen her.

“What?” he asks.  “What did I do?”  Skye runs her hands through her hair, before angrily tossing her arms to her sides.

“I didn’t graduate high school, okay?” Skye says, and she’s starting to cry, “I’m a fucking dropout.”

 

Ward freezes for the following reasons: one, there is a girl crying.  Two, Skye never finished high school.  Three, the girl crying is Skye.

“Don’t cry,” he says.  His voice is higher than it should be.  “Skye,” he says, “please don’t cry.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says.  She wipes her nose on the back of her hand.

“Of course you should be here,” Ward says, still in that high pitch, “Coulson put you in here.” 

“Because he doesn’t know what else to do with me,” Skye says.  “He should’ve just handed me over to the cops.”  She sits down on her bed, and slumps forward onto her knees.  Ward still has no idea what to do.  Maybe he should sit next to her.  He’s going to try that.  Good plan.  He sits next to her.  Should he rub her back?  He reaches one hand out and runs it over her shoulder.  She doesn’t protest, so he keeps going.

“I would be miserable if you weren’t here,” Ward says.  That’s not what he was planning to say.  It slipped out, really.  Skye looks up from her hands.  She’s got raccoon eyes.

“I’m so bad at school, Ward,” Skye says.  “I’m never going to make it out of this place.”

 

Ward takes the biggest risk of his nineteen years.  He wraps his arm around Skye’s shoulders, and he pulls her into a hug.  Well, maybe not the biggest risk.  It feels like it, though.  Especially when Skye throws her arms around his neck and nestles her head into his shoulder.

“I’ll help you,” Ward says.  “I’m great at math.”  He isn’t.  He’s never hugged anyone for this long.  He’s not really sure where to go from here.  He twists his fingers into Skye’s hair.

“I can’t fail,” she mumbles.  “I have no where else to go.”

“You’re not going to fail,” Ward says.  “And you’ll always have a place with me.” 

“Aw, roomie,” she says, “I thought you were made of ice.”  Ward says nothing, but he thinks _so did I._

 

 

\--

** Schmear **

There’s a rapping on the door at ten am on a Saturday morning.  Skye’s tucked deep into her 30 or so blankets, her tiny head barely visible on her pillow.  Ward’s been up since seven, though.  He marks the page of his book and sets it down on his bed.  The knocking gets faster, and Ward wonders if the hall is on fire, or something.  That’s probably it.  Why they don’t put the Sci-Ops kids in a different, flame-proof building is one of SHIELD Academy’s many mysteries.

 

It’s Phil Coulson.  Agent Phil Coulson, personal friend of Director Fury’s, assistant to the Avengers Initiative, is standing in the doorway with a brown paper bag and a tray off two coffees.

“Who the hell are you?” Agent Coulson says.  Ward faintly realizes that he’s in a tee shirt and a pair of boxer briefs.

“I’m-” Ward chokes out, voice cracking, “I’m Skye’s roommate.”  Agent Coulson frowns.

“They put her in with a boy?” he asks.  Ward nods so fast his head might come off.

“It was a system error.  They had her in as Sky, with no e at the end.”  Coulson sighs, coming into the room before Ward can offer.

“There’s an error alright,” Agent Coulson says, “but I’ll take it up with Director Hand.”

“Sir?” Ward squeaks.  Agent Coulson sets the bag and the coffees down on Skye’s desk.

“What time did she get to bed last night?” he asks.

“Um,” Ward says, “well-” the correct answer is four am, he knows because she’d crawled into his bed by accident and he’d heard a british voice faintly saying “no, love, that’s not your bed.”

 

Agent Coulson is still giving Ward a rather expectant look, so Ward says, “Around 2 am, I think.  Sir.”  Agent Coulson shrugs.

“You think she’ll get mad if I wake her up?” he asks.  He’s got something friendly in his voice.  Ward is taken off guard by it.  Agents aren’t people.  They’re, they’re...agents!  What is Ward supposed to aspire to be if agents can have feelings?

“I’ve never tried to wake her,” Ward says.  He leaves the ‘sir,’ off this time, to test the waters.  Coulson actually smiles at him.

“You’re smarter than I am, then,” Coulson says.  Ward balks at that, at how casual Coulson seems to be about, well, everything.

“Skye,” Coulson says, leaning forward, “Skye, wake up.”  She lifts an arm out from under her blankets and tries to bat Coulson’s head.  Ward would be scandalized if it wasn’t the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“Sleeping,” Skye mutters, “shh.”

“SHIELD Academy waits for no one,” Coulson tells her, and pulls her blankets back.  A disgruntled Skye actually hisses and hides her head under her pillow.

“SLEEPING,” she insists.

“I brought bagels,” Coulson tells her.  She peeks up from under her pillow.

“Real ones?” she asks.  Coulson nods.  Ward has no idea what’s going on, or if he should even be here, but standing in the corner by his bed seems to be working great for him.

 

Skye groans, pushes the pillow off her head and rolls over to her side.

“Ward,” she says, bits of sleep still traced in her voice, “throw me my pants.”  Coulson shoots Ward a look that instantly undoes any camaraderie the two of them had moments prior.  Ward holds up his hands.

“I know where she keeps her sweatpants,” Ward says, “that’s all.”  Coulson’s look softens from ‘i’ll eat your still beating heart’ to ‘yeah that better be all,’ and Ward almost feels relieved.

 

Ward makes his way to Skye’s drawers as quickly as he can, and of course the drawer sticks as he tries to open it.

“Ugh, don’t make me get out of bed yet,” Skye says.  Ward can feel Coulson’s eyes on his back.

“Hold on,” Ward says, “the drawer sticks.”

“Is this something you do for her often?” Coulson asks.  Ward hears Skye snicker.

“Oh my god,” Skye says, “relax.  He’s my roommate.  He’s pretty much like a lamp that can talk and reach high shelves.”  Ward swallows, hard.  At least he’s facing the drawers and not Skye, so she can’t see the look that crosses his face.

“Is black okay?” Ward asks.  He’s finally gotten the drawer mostly open.  Skye has sweatpants in way too many colors, which is ridiculous since she only ever wears them around the room or for mandatory Academy fitness training.  He’s almost positive no one else at SHIELD Academy has hot pink yoga pants.

“Black’s fine,” Skye says, so he pulls out a neatly folded black pair (he does all the folding.  And the non-undergarments related laundry.  She makes him.)  He tosses them to her, and Coulson catches them.  Ward tries to smile.

“Did I buy these for you?” Coulson asks, surveying the black pants at an arm’s distance, “they seem like they’d be too tight.”

“That’s the style,” Skye says, grabbing them from Coulson’s hands.  She wiggles into her sweats and Ward makes sure his eyes are firmly on the carpet.

 

“I wish I’d known you have a roommate,” Coulson says, as Skye swings her legs over the bed, “I’d have brought more bagels and coffee.”

“That’s fine,” Ward says, “I don’t eat carbs.  Or drink coffee.  Caffeine is-”

“A drug, bad for your heart, bad for your sleep cycle, yada yada,” Coulson says, handing Skye her cup of coffee.  She takes it and gives Ward a smug smile.  “I went to Academy too, you know.  Those health tips they give you are more like guidelines than gospel.”

“Don’t bother with him,” Skye says, “he eats like, three things.  Spinach, eggs, and protein shakes.”  Something changes in Coulson’s expression.  Ward isn’t entirely familiar with what concern looks like from a father figure, but he thinks that might be it.  Ward doesn’t like it.  Not one bit.

“I eat plenty of things,” Ward says, “you just steal all my food before I get a chance to eat it.”

“Have my bagel,” Coulson says.  “It’s everything.  You like everything bagels, don’t you?”

“It’s fine,” Ward says.  “I couldn’t take your breakfast.”   Coulson digs out his bagel, wrapped in tin foil.

“It’s got a schmear on it,” Coulson says, “just plain cream cheese.  Have it.”

 

Ward stares at the bagel.  He stares at Skye, who’s oh-so-innocently sipping her coffee and staring right back at him.  This could be a test.  If he takes the bagel, he might earn Coulson’s favor.  Or it’s a trap, and Coulson is trying to see if he’s greedy.

“Jesus Christ,” Coulson says, pulling Ward’s arm out and slapping the bagel into Ward’s outstretched hand, “it’s just a bagel, kid.  Relax.”  Ward lets out a nervous laugh.  It sounds kind of like a cat being tossed in a tub.  Coulson has the decency not to look horrified, though Skye is not as kind.

“Weirdo,” Skye says.  Ward doesn’t dispute it.

 

“So, now that breakfast is all sorted out,” Coulson says, pulling Skye’s chair out from her desk, “what’s going on around campus?  What’s the gossip?”

“Oh my god,” Skye says, “there is no gossip.  No one says that.”

“Sure they do,” Coulson says, “and there’s always plenty of gossip.  Isn’t there, Ward?”  Ward freezes.

“Last week Agent Sitwell taught me how to tie knots,” Ward blurts out.  He doesn’t know if that counts as gossip.

“Wow, slow down with the exciting stories,” Skye says.  “Next you’re going to tell us about how you washed your socks last week.”  Coulson chuckles at that.

 

The thing is: Ward doesn’t remember washing his socks, but he does remember Skye hand washing a purple bra in the sink and then leaving it to dry on the towel rack.  And Ward had been so good this entire time, but it was there and- he peeked at the tag.  He knows her cup size, now.  He’s going to roommate hell.  He says none of this, and instead unwraps his bagel and takes a large bite to keep himself from talking. 

 

 

\--

** Something **

“Did I do something wrong?” Ward blurts it out without meaning to.  Skye’s just doing her homework.  Keeping to herself.

Skye doesn’t look up.  “Why would you think that?”

“Well, um,” Ward starts, unsure of where to go from here.  He could point out that she’s acting strange right now.  She never just sits and quietly does her homework.  She’s always blurting out answers or curses or questions, and she’s usually listening to music and checking the computer and talking to Ward about thirty things at once.  He could point out that she’s sexiled him two nights in a row, after previously not sexiling him for a cumulative twelve days.  There’s also the fact that she’s stopped listening to Britney Spears when she gets ready in the morning.  She’s switched to something that he can only describe as “angry girl rock.”  Sometimes she sings along, and Ward can’t help but think she’s singing about him.  She’s stopped saying “goodnight,” when she goes to bed.

 

 

He notices the little things.  It’s what they’re training him to do, right?

 

 

Skye hasn’t moved from her desk, and that’s another sign; Skye is never quiet or contained.  He keeps his eyes trained on her profile, on the way the light casts itself around her head and brings out the gold in her hair.  He misses her, which is an odd thing to say when she’s sitting right there.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Ward says.  Her jaw twitches.

“Maybe I’m just a weird person,” she says.  Not to him.  To the pages of her book. 

“I mean, yeah, you are,” Ward says.  She tosses her pen down.  Fuck.  That’s not what he meant.  “I mean, you’re not-you’re acting like, really quiet and withdrawn and I’m just wondering if I did something because we’re living together and communication is-”

Skye whips her head towards him.  “You’ve been perfect,” Skye says, “the perfect SHIELD Academy student.  A real role model.”  The burning coals in her voice make Ward uneasy.  

 

 

“Can you just tell me what I did wrong?” Ward says. “Please?”  He’s wracking his brain for answers.  They were fine on Monday.  They went to the dining hall together.  She’d stolen his pudding cup.  Then they’d come back to their room and they were doing homework and she’d asked him something?  What had she asked him about?

“You’re just not the person I thought you were,” Skye says.  “That’s all.”  There are knots tying in his chest.

“What did you think I was?” Ward asks.

“Kind.  Compassionate.  Understanding,” Skye lists.  Ward is in the dark, here.  He said something, did something, and now Skye is convinced he’s a monster.  He thought she’d known him better.  She did.  He just-he had to fix this, is all.

 

 

What did he say to her, on Monday night?  They had been doing their homework, she’d been reading a textbook, something about SHIELD and the modern world.  She was making fun of it.  Laughing at their tips on carrying out non-suspicious conversation, and Ward had mentioned he’d poured over those tips as a freshman.  Skye had laughed, and said “of course you did.”  She’d offered to teach him how to talk to girls, after she did her homework.  Ward wanted to point out that he was talking to her, and that she was the only girl he’d ever wanted to talk to.  But he didn’t.  Her laughter had tapered off suddenly, over something in her book.

 

 

“Come on, Skye,” Ward says, “Just tell me how to make you happy.”  Her happiness, he realizes, is worth more than his.  His happiness seems to be dependent on hers, actually.  Ward remembers wishing, the first two days of their living arrangement, that she would just stop talking, and being so peppy, and calling him names and taking up space in every inch of his life.  But now he felt weirdly sick without it.  Empty.  He’d been lacking, and now Skye is just going to take that away from him?  Did she have any idea what kind of power she held over him?

“Did you mean it?” Skye demands.

“Mean what?” Ward asks.  He sounds eager.  He is eager.  Anything to repent and make Skye like him again.

“What you said on Monday,” Skye says.  Ward sucks in a breath.  What had he said on Monday?

 

 

“Ward?” She’d asked, “What’s a gifted?”  He remembers shrugging his shoulders.

“You know, people with ‘talents.’  The dangerous kind.  It’s SHIELD’s job to contain them.”  Skye was frowning.  She’d offered him a pleading look, and he’d ignored it.

“Why do they need to be contained?” she’d asked.

“Because they’re not normal.  They pose a clear threat to society and to, you know,”

“Normal people?” Skye had spat the word normal like it disgusted her.  He hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah.  People like us.  That’s why it’s our job to keep them from hurting anyone.  By any means necessary.” 

Skye had slammed her book shut.  “I need a shower,” she’d said.

 

 

“I said something about gifteds?” Ward asks, “that’s what you’re mad about?”  Skye finally turns to look at him, whipping her braid over her shoulder.  Her frown pulls at every inch of his subconscious.  It sends him into high alert.  It says ‘you fucked up, you fucked up, you fucked up.’

“You said something about people,” Skye says, “and yeah, I’m pretty fucking pissed about it.”  Hearing her say it hurts.  More than he’d thought it would.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t in the textbook,” Ward offers.

Skye’s frown turns into a scowl.  “And that makes it better?  People are people, Ward.  I get that SHIELD has a hard-on for oppression, but doesn’t their whole gifted policy seem a little extreme?”

“Don’t say that,” Ward tells her.  SHIELD’s given him a home.  It gave her a home.  He can’t just disregard the rulebook for Skye’s dark eyes.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want,” Skye says, “unless you’re planning to report me.”

Ward feels the accusation spread across his chest like a physical pain.  “I would never-”

“Why not?” Skye says, “I’m weird.  I’m not SHIELD material.  I’m different.  And you said that ‘gifteds’ are freaks, and that freaks are dangerous, so-”  Ward stands up from his bed.  Maybe it’s the rambling.  Maybe it’s the accusations.  He feels to small.  He needs to remind himself of his own size.

“I never said anything like that,” Ward demands.  “You’re putting words in my mouth.”  Skye stands, pushing her desk chair into her dresser.  The photos on the dresser wobble at the impact, but don’t fall off.  She’s enraged, in an all enveloping sort of way that sparks through her gnashed teeth and furious eyes.  He’d take a step back, if his bed wasn’t right behind him.

 

 

 

“Everything has to be normal to you, doesn’t it?” Skye snarls.  She breaches his personal space.  She jabs a finger into her chest.  “Everything has to be protocol.  You’re just like them! You’ll always follow orders even if they fly in the face of basic human compassion!”  Ward catches her wrist.

“Skye,” he says softly, if only to offer some kind of peace, “I promise you, I am not like that.  It was a one time comment.”

“That’s all it takes, isn’t it?” she asks, “It’s how you feel.”  He shakes his head.

“I wasn’t thinking.  Just reciting what I was told.”  Skye is still glaring at him.  It’s not the best thing to say, but it’s the truth.  And he hopes, more than anything, that she can appreciate him being honest.

“Have you ever even met a gifted?” Skye asks.

“I haven’t,” Ward says.

“So how do you know, then?  That they’re all dangerous?” she’s not yelling anymore.  That’s a good sign.  He couldn’t handle her yelling at him.  He couldn’t.

“I don’t,” he admits, “and I was stupid to act like I did.”

“So you’d give a gifted a chance, then?” Skye asks.

“I’d give anyone a chance,” Ward says.  He’s still holding her wrist.  He thinks she’s moved closer to him, because her free hand is splayed out on his chest.

 

 

He wonders if she can feel his heart pounding.  She casts her eyes down.

 

 

The silence that follows is softer than it had been before, yet somehow heavier.  Her shallow breathing hits him like the tide.  And he should take his eyes off her face, but he’s drawn to every part of her so throughly that he can’t bring himself to look away.  She moves her hand out of his wrist, but instead of pulling back, she laces her fingers through his and squeezes.  Like she’s afraid.

 

 

“What if I was a gifted?” she asks. “Would you still be my friend?”  She sniffles.  “Would you hand me over to SHIELD?”

 Ward can’t think.  He can’t breathe.  She’s too close to him.  “Are you a gifted?” he asks.  Skye doesn’t look offended.  Just sad.  Deflated.  “Skye?”

“I’m something,” she says.  It’s less than a whisper.  It’s a breath.  He hears her.  He hears her and he hates himself all at once.  He’d never hand her over to SHIELD.  He’d never do that to her.  He’s not capable of it.  Of picking SHIELD over Skye.  And he never thought he’d say that about his roommate, yet here he is.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I’m an idiot.  I’m so stupid.  I should’ve-”

“It’s not you,” Skye says.  “It’s SHIELD.  You know how they feel about these things and-”  She looks at him and her eyes are wet.  He cups her cheeks in his hands.  Her face is so small.  She’s small.  Fragile.  Gifted.

“I’ll protect you,” he says, an oath or a vow, “I swear to God, Skye, I will always protect you.”

 

 

She smiles.  It reaches her eyes.  Ward thinks he sees something being buried under the light of her eyes, something that had been dark and terrible.  He won’t bring it up.  Skye grabs his wrists.

“Slow down there, roomie,” she teases, “I’m a proper southern girl.  You’ll make me untidy!”  He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she’s hiding behind her jokes, that she’s always hiding, but he’s just so ecstatic that she’s not mad at him anymore that he lets it go.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  She wraps her arms around him.

“You said that already,” she says.  He pats the back of her head.

“It couldn’t hurt to say it a few more times,” Ward says.  “I just want to make it clear.  That I’m sorry.  I fucked up.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Skye mutters into his chest, “you’ve probably used your emotional quota up for the day.” 

“I’m fine,” Ward tells her.  His fingers have gotten tangled in her hair.  “How are you?”  She pulls back.

“Never better,” she says.  He wants to believe her.  On a whim, he rustles her hair.

“Ugh!” she complains, “what are you, my big brother?  Don’t mess up my hair.”  She pauses, then holds out her pinky.

“Still best friends?” she asks.  He hooks his pinky around hers without hesitation.

“You’re my only friend,” he says.  There it is.  Another dark flash behind her eyes, but she hides it with a sharp laugh.

“We’ve got to work on that,” she says.  “I’m not reliable enough to be your only friend.”  

 

He’d say that he doesn’t want any other friends, he just wants her.  Just Skye, where he can see her.  Where he can protect her.  Do her other friends know?  Does anyone else know?  She’s searching his face.  He has to think of something to say.

“You look pretty,” he says, because he can’t think of anything else.  He has a strong urge to melt into the floor.

“Okay, then,” Skye says, tossing her hands up, “I think you just had a factory restart.  Good talk, roomie.”  For a moment, her face softens.  “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Never,” he says.  “I promise.”  She nods.

“Just checking,” she says.  “I do trust you.  I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re perfect,” Ward says.

“I’m in need of a shower,” Skye says.  “But thanks?”

“Don’t drown?” he offers.  She laughs.  Harder than she should.

“A real joke,” she says, “I’m honored.”  It feels so much more normal, now, but he can’t fight the feeling that something has changed, that something is wrong, here.  He doesn’t want to think too hard about it, but it’s pulling on the edge of his thoughts.  Something is wrong.  Something is wrong.  Something is-

 

 

Skye starts singing in the shower, for the first time in three days.  Ward shuts his eyes and smiles.  


End file.
